


I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

by ThtGrnGntlmn



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Drinking, Drunk Dialing, Drunk Texting, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, basically there's alcohol okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 10:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThtGrnGntlmn/pseuds/ThtGrnGntlmn
Summary: Michael Facetimes you in the middle of the night, completely drunk; all thoughts are unfiltered which leads to quite the predicament.





	I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

You were in a blissful, much needed sleep when it happened. An annoying blaring sound was coming from your phone. You woke with a start, trying your best to find your phone in the dark. When you did find it, you noticed the caller ID–it was Michael. You glanced at the clock.

It was 2 AM.

You huffed in frustration and answered the call, still not quite awake yet. As soon as the call went through, the first thing you had heard was a joyous cry from Mike.

"AYEEEEE..."

You winced from the sudden loudness.

"Hey- hey guys! Guys! She answered!" Michael said, looking over his shoulder. There was a chorus of more "ayees" in the background–which sounded like Calum, Luke, and Ashton– who seemed to be just as hammered as Michael.

Michael's words slurred together as you rubbed your eyes. "Why's it so dark? I can't see your face," he pouted. "Can ya turn on a light?" He started to whine.

"Michael, no. It's two in the morning, you fuck-wit."

His brow furrowed and squinted at the timestamp on his phone. "Oh shit," he realized. "Sorry." He giggled, losing all sincerity in his voice. "Guys! Holy shit, guys it's two A.M." Michael shouted. The other guys in the room cheered again, obviously ecstatic over their meager endeavor.

Mikey's attention turned back to you. "I miss you so much, (Y/N)," he stumbled.

"Mike, I saw you only yesterday," you complained.

"Yeah, I know," he drawled. "But still."

"Okay, buddy, well if you don't mind, I'm going to go back to sleep now alright?"

"Nooooooo..." Mike said. You swear, he was acting so childish. "Please stay, (Y/N), pleeeaasssee?"

"Ugh. Fine. You win." Although he was acting like a kid, it still was so satisfying when he begged for you to do something. Plus he looked so cute with his lower lip jutting out.

"Yay!" He squealed, giggling again. That caused you to giggle, and you found yourself to be more awake now. You say up in bed, fluffing the pillows around you.

"So?" You asked. "What is it you wanna talk about?"

Michael blew a raspberry. "I dunno."

You thought for a second, but before you could say anything, Mike started up again.

"You know, (Y/N), you're so pretty. Like really, really, pretty. You're lying in bed right now and you probably still look like a goddess."

You were taken aback by his sudden brash behavior. "Oh, Michael, you don't have to-"

"No like, I mean it. You're really, super-duper pretty. And gorgeous. You're pretty gorgeous. Hehe. Pretty gorgeous." He giggled some more in such in an endearing way. But you couldn't focus on that.

"Mikey-"

"And you're like uber-smart. Not like über- an über driver- but like very. You're so much smarter than me. And that? Thas-so cool, brutha."

You were becoming concerned. Michael would never admit to you–even on your own deathbed–that you were intellectually superior. Even though both of you knew it was true, he'd never say it. Most of the time when he was drunk, he still wouldn't say these words.

He must've been really far-gone.

"Michael," you stated, putting on your serious face.

"(Y/n)," he mocked, snickering.

"How much have you had?" You questioned.

He smirked sloppily. "Had wha- what?" He hiccupped. He laughed then, at what you weren't sure.

"Michael. How much alcohol have you had to drink?"

He responded with an incredibly slurred 'I dunno'.

"Do you have a designated driver?"

He nodded his head and laughed even more.

"Who?"

He turned the camera to the rest of the guys. "Hey! D.D., where you at?"

From the corner, Ashton raised his hand and waved energetically, a loopy grin on his face. His other hand was holding–lo and behold–a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's.

_Oh hell no._

"Okay, you know what?" You said. "I'm picking you guys up. Are you at Ash's?"

Mike rubbed his eyes. "Mhmmm...."

"Alright. I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Okie-dokie."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you got to Ash's house, you didn't even bother with knocking on the door and walked right on inside.

The first thing you heard was the sound of loud shouting over some music. You followed the source to the basement, where you discovered all four of the guys playing beer pong.

_You've_ got _to be kidding me._

You immediately stalked over to the stereo and shut off the music, much to the objection from those jerk-offs you called friends.

"Quiet down!" You yelled. They did as told. It's definitely too early for this shit. You let out a quick and giant sigh to prepare for you monologue. "All of you. Upstairs. Now." You tried on your best mom voice to make them comply. Slowly, one by one, they shuffled up the stairs, tripping occasionally due to their drunkenness.

You paced up and down the living room after forcibly pushing everyone onto the couch. You took a deep breath and let it rip.

"What _the hell_ were you thinking?! You're leaving for tour tomorrow and you thought it'd be a goddamn fantastic idea to stay up all night? And then on top of that–you all though it'd be even better to get so pissed that you could barely operate properly? What _the actual fuck?_ What logic is there in that? Please, just enlighten me."

You could tell that you were overreacting. But you didn't care. You were woken up–after getting maybe two hours of sleep–to your friends being complete dumbasses. You couldn't care less, in the moment.

All four of them remained silent. It seemed they were unsure of what to say. You stared down each of them individually, holding their gazes for at least five seconds. When it got to Calum, at the opposite side of the couch, he let up.

"We didn't mean to! We were only trying to make Michael-" Cal was quickly cut off by Luke jabbing him in the ribcage. His face fell, and he refused to look at anything but the floor then.

Those words took hold in you. The gaps that Calum had left out were filled in. You glanced around the group as a whole. They looked absolutely miserable. Whether or not that be from guilt or alcohol, you weren't sure. _Probably both._

You grew concerned. You knew Michael's had some struggles with mental health in the past–you personally helped him through some of those occasions– and you were definitely aware of how bad his spells could get.

"Mikey?" You said, unsure what could and couldn't be said in front of others. You took a few steps towards him. "Are you alright?"

He wouldn't look you in the eye, and was rather intrigued by a little glass statuette on a table to his left.

"Mikey?" You said again.

"Yeah, fine," he said. His tone had an edge to it. Almost clipped. He still refused to look your way.

You notices how his posture had stiffened, his muscles tense. As tense as they could be, anyways. That was your cue to lay off. You stepped back and put a hand to your forehead, deep in thought. "Okay!" You clapped your hands together, which caught all of them off guard. "Okay, Ashton!" You pointed at him.

He stared at you, in a sort of stupor. You moved your finger into a 'come here' motion. He complied, stumbling on his way over. You set your hand on his back and guided him to his room. "Don't go anywhere," you said sternly with a warning glare at the other three before climbing up the staircase.

You put Ashton in his room, found a pair of pajamas and threw them at him while muttering, "Change into these." You went back downstairs to the kitchen to get some water, and grabbed a towel and empty garbage bin from the bathroom on your way back. When you entered Ash's room again he was changed into the pajama bottoms, awkwardly standing since he was completely helpless and had no idea what to do. "Bed. In. Now." You directed. He warily followed suit, his eyes never leaving you as you set up shop. You lay the towel on the floor next to Ash's bed, placed the bin on top of it and set the water on his nightstand.

You pointed at these objects in turn, explaining. "Water: hangover helper. Bin: puke holder. Towel: puke protection. Got it?"

He nodded in almost a kid-like manner. You sat next to him on the bed and rubbed his leg. The way your mother used to when you were sick.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blow up at you guys. I just-" you sighed. "I just had a long day. And you should've known better. Getting wasted before tour starts... especially if you were supposed to drive everyone home." You let out another sigh, and rubbed your temple.

"Hey..." Ash whispered, almost asleep now. "I'm sorry, too. We didn't mean to, it just sorta happened. We only wanted to cheer up Mikey."

Your brows furrowed. "Can you tell me why you had to cheer him up?"

Ashton chewed his lip for a second, his face showing deep thought. In that instance he almost appeared sober.

"... No. I shouldn't say. He'll tell you if he wants."

You nodded to yourself. _But why?_ Was all you could think. "Alright." You pat Ash's leg. "Get to sleep now. Long day tomorrow."

He nodded, snuggling into the blankets. "You behave yourself, got it? Don't want you in any tabloids."

You smiled lightly. Ash was snoring softly by then. You gave his leg one final tap and whispered a gentle, "Goodnight." You gave him a kiss on the forehead then left his room, ready to round up the... Less compliant boys.

——————————

By the time you got home, you were beat. It took a great deal longer to get Luke and Cal into bed than it did with Ash. And after all of that, you decided it was easier to bring Michael home. The two main reasons: you were worried about him, and you didn't want to fall asleep at the wheel.

You opened your door with a grunt. It was always sticking. _Should probably talk to the landlord about that._

"Mikey, c'mon," you offered your hand to pull him inside. He was still quite drunk, so he nearly decapitated himself when he tripped over the threshold.

He wasn't happy-drunk now. He was quiet-drunk. And that terrified you.

Gently, you brought him down on your couch and quickly got the same things you did for the other three. Right as you muttered a slightly clipped, "Night," and nearly left the room, Mike took hold of your hand again.

"Can you stay?" He asked. He seemed so vulnerable. You nodded after a moment; he let go of after you sat next to him. There was a bit of silence between the two of you... Then Michael started talking. It sounded strange. As if it wasn't his own voice.

"Hey, I- I'm sorry for calling you so late."

"No, no don't be. I'm glad you did, to be honest. You could've ended up in a ditch somewhere. Which is why I'm glad you called."

"Yeah, well," he sighed. "'S still stupid."

You bit your lip, absently tugging at some dead skin. "Mikey," you began. "Really. Are you alright?"

He rubbed a hand over his face and inhaled deeply. "Not really."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

He shrugged. "I mean-" He paused. "I _want_ to. But I can't. I- I'm not-"

"-Hey," you interjected, resting a hand on his knee. He stopped all movement I'm that moment and gazed down towards it as if it were some alien creature. "I won't force you to say anything you don't want to. If something makes you uncomfortable, I won't force you to talk about it."

He groaned, "That's just the thing!" He buried his face in hands in frustration. "I... It'd be a lot to put on you."

Your face screwed up in confusion. _What could that possibly be?_

"When I said you were a beautiful, I meant it. Like really-really meant it."

You turned your body to get a better view of Mike. He was looking down towards the ground.

"Mikey, I know you do..." you trailed off, not knowing if it would be better to say anything else.

"(Y/N)..." His words mushed together. "Oh, God, (Y/N)." He finally looked up at you. The light in his eyes were dim, non-reflective. Everything about his body language—it was so rigid. It was... guarded.

That so didn't ease your worry.

"I'm such an idiot." He shook his head and turned away once more. "I hate it, and I hate myself for it, and I hate myself for hating it! And I hate myself for being such a coward. I want to tell you, but that wouldn't be fair. To me and you. But if I don't tell you..." Michael shivered. It appeared that his whole body was shaking, not able to control his emotions any longer. He stayed quiet for a couple seconds longer. Suddenly and clumsily, he plucked up that hand that was resting on his knee. He fiddled with your fingers while he went on. "(Y/N)," he gulped. "Jesus, this is hard."

You rubbed your thumb in small circles against his hand in encouragement. Whenever he had a hard time saying something, you always found that supportive, motherly touching soothed him a lot. It always narrowed down to hand holding or back rubbing. It was kind of endearing, in a weird way.

As you allowed him to gather his thoughts, your own mind drifted off. What brought you back to reality was what Michael blurted out next.

"I love you."

You froze.

_He must mean it in the friend kind of way._

_But he wouldn't be so strung up about it if that was true._

_But that doesn't make sense!_

_It actually makes all the sense in the world._

"I'm in love with you! There's no denying it." He said it with conviction, completely unable to help himself.

This sent your head spinning. You found yourself staring holes in the floor; you swung your head back up to look at Michael. He seemed to be watching you intently. His drunken state was clouding his vision though.

You sighed, "Mikey..."

Before you let out another syllable, Michael was crashing his lips onto your own. They were wet, sloppy, and they tasted like stale beer. His teeth clanged against yours painfully. But you couldn't help the flame that rose up in your belly.

"Mike-!" you gasped on his mouth. "Michael!" You placed your hands on his chest and immediately shoved him back. "Don't do this..."

His eyes gleamed with raw emotion. It was powerful; teeming with lust and disappointment. "Please?" He asked. "Please, for me."

You hesitated. Since you didn't answer, Mike took that as an invitation. He leaned in again and set his lips into yours. It was softer this time. Not as desperate. You thought it'd be easier to let him get it out of his system, but it felt wrong. So wrong. You pulled back quickly.

"Mikey, no. You're drunk. I'd be taking advantage of you if we keep going with this."

Michael pauses then nods slowly. "I understand..."

"We'll talk about-" you gestured between the two of you, "-everything? ...Tomorrow. Goodnight."

You stood and let Michael curl up underneath his blanket. As you turned out the light and went to your room, you could still feel your heart fluttering in your chest.

And the sensation of your lips tingling from that kiss.

——————————————————————————————

_The next morning- Michael's POV_

I opened my eyes... Directly in a ray of sunshine.

"Fuck!"

My head was absolutely pounding. I sat up, causing my stomach to turn. Aw, shit. I noticed a bucket on the floor and in a prompt split second decision–threw up in it. When my stomach was empty, I rolled onto my back. I put my arm over my eyes attempting to let the darkness pull me under. _That won't happen anytime soon though._

I pulled my arm back and opened my eyes. _Has light always been this painful?_ Jesus.

I tried to focus on the ceiling, since it was a consistent soft blue color; unmoving, unlike everything else... Funny, I didn't think that–

_Wait. That's not my ceiling._

I jolted upright, eyes darting around the room. I let out a sigh of relief and put my face in my hands when I saw it was (Y/N)'s house, peering through the gaps in my fingers at the lush carpet. _But why am I here?_

I stood up, trying so hard to keep my balance, as well as my head from exploding. _Guess it's time to investigate._

I crept around the house for only a moment because I soon heard the sizzling of a frying pan. _Waffles. Of course_. I would've thought the smell was warm and inviting if my throat hadn't wanted to continuously remind me of my alcoholic consumption the night before.

I rounded the corner into the kitchen to see (Y/N) steadily at work over her waffle iron, a towering stack of waffles waiting to be feasted on her to her right. _God, she looks so gorgeous._ My eyes trailed over her body for a moment or two until I remembered that I'm not supposed to look at friends like that. _Stop thinking that it'll happen, man._

I lost my train of thought when (Y/N) cleared her throat while holding out a couple of giant pills, with a glass of water resting on the counter to her left. I hastily groped them out of her hands and downed them in two seconds flat.

"I am eternally grateful," I said afterwards. I was expecting a snarky comeback in return but only got a stiff nod and a tight-lipped smile.

I sat down at the kitchen island, praying to _God Almighty Above_ that this hangover would wear off soon. After all, I had to leave—

Oh, shit.

"Holy fuck, what time is it?!" I asked, jumping up from my spot, rearing to dash out of (Y/N)'s house. _Oh, dammit, I'm so dead. By this time tomorrow, my body will be washed up on the banks of some river_. "I've gotta go right now, I'm sorry-"

"Michael, it's alright!" (Y/N) whirled around. "Do you seriously think I'd let you oversleep? Besides, I already texted the rest of the band. They know where you are. You won't be late." She watched me for a while longer. Then she twisted back around, her expression changing to something almost... shy? Angry? Or maybe a mixture of both.

"Hey," I whispered. (Y/N) glanced over her shoulder. "You good?" Her lips set into a thin line before speaking and her words came out very curtly.

"Yep. I'm great. Just fantastic."

"No, seriously," I said, stepping closer to her. "What's wrong? Did I offend you or something?" My brows furrowed together.

At that moment, (Y/N) spun back to face me, a full argument about to burst from her lips, but she fell short. There was a pause. "Oh, my God, you don't remember."

I only became more confused. "Remember? So I _did_ do something that hurt you?"

(Y/N) huffed out a sigh. "Okay, you didn't necessarily hurt me—well, actually—no, I just, I guess I kind of, you know, um..." (Y/N) rambled off sporadically, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "Actually, you know what?" She inhaled deeply. "I-" there was hesitation. "I'll tell you... after you brush your teeth."

———————————

After questioning—jokingly, of course—if my breath really smelled _that bad_ , I went upstairs. I brushed my teeth with an extra toothbrush (Y/N) kept around for days like today.

I returned, feeling much better now that my mouth tasted of mint, and sat down at the island, waiting. (Y/N) had finished making waffles and was sitting opposite me. Her thumbs twiddled over one another, a nervous habit I've seen her do over the years. Now I was _really_ concerned. _Did I do something bad? Did I tell her—?_

"Mikey..." her face was super pink. "I'm just gonna come right out and say it." (Y/N) leaned her arms on the counter, business-like. She looked like she was mulling over what to say in her head, before she quickly moved around the island be next to me. "Actually..." she gnawed at her lip. "Let me try something. To jog your memory."

I nodded solemnly, not sure what to expect. Soon enough, (Y/N) moved closer and delicately placed her lips on mine, moving them uncertainly. I immediately closed my eyes, and kissed back, allowing one hand to cup her face, the other resting on her hip. I savored the feeling of being able to touch her like this; sweetly, lovingly. She snaked her arms around my waist, pulling me in closer. We stayed like that for what feels like forever. But then (Y/N) pulled back, all too soon.

My eyes fluttered open to ask why she had stopped, but came short. Instead, another question formed. "Wait, why do you think this would jog my-?"

I answered that question for myself.

I guess my gaze shifted to the floor, because I snapped my head back up to search in (Y/N)'s face for any signs. Her eyes were wide as she continued to chew on her lip, like she hadn't stopped. She didn't even need to say anything, only look at me. And I knew instantly.

"Oh, Jesus!" I shouted, my head falling into my hands. "I can't believe I did that. I am so sorry, really."

"Mikey?" (Y/N) said. I straightened up as she spoke. "You um... you also, may have told me you, uh, you loved me." She half smiled, twisting her fingers together. My mouth gaped open. Like a goldfish, floundering for words to say.

"I... I did? That's- that-"

(Y/N) cut me off before I could bullshit some excuse. "Hold up, man. I'm not accusing you of anything..." She trailed off, as if she were reluctant to say what came next. "Though, I am wondering... if that's... true." And then she tagged on, "Not like friends, either."

I inhaled deeply. _Better now than never?_ I couldn't look at her as the words tumbled out. "Yes. Yes, it is." I shook my head, scoffing. "I've... I've loved you for a while now." I thought for a second, maybe trying to find the right way to articulate my feelings. I couldn't. "And I apologize if I've hurt our friendship, or you, at all. Even in the slightest."

There was an infinity of quiet. Of utter silence. It seemed to stretch on forever.

Yet, it was broken, by the sound of laughter. A small, bubbly giggle. I tore my gaze away from the nearest wall to watch (Y/N), skeptical to believe that this could have led to something good. I began to feel self-conscious. I just poured my fucking heart out to her and now she's laughing? Great. I made a move to dart out of the kitchen, just to save myself from further embarrassment, when (Y/N) caught my arm.

"Oh, nonono, Michael, I'm sorry," she said, controlling her laughter. I sat back down. She took a couple even breaths to calm down before she continued. "I wasn't laughing at you, I promise. I just... I just thought about how ironic it is. This whole situation."

"... Huh?" Was all I could muster up.

(Y/N) shook her head with a small smile. "After all this time. I thought..." She bore her eyes into mine, intensely. "I thought that you might feel something. That you might feel anything. And I'm so relieved to know that I wasn't just imagining it."

There was a glimmer of hope in my chest, my stomach doing somersaults. I opened my mouth to say something, but (Y/N) stopped me by kissing me again. I reciprocated the feeling and let my lips glide over hers. It felt so right, so good. It was better than I ever imagined.


End file.
